


I Hope So

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, F/F, also age difference, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose has a crush on the girl who works in Starbucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hope So

You visit Starbucks (right, right, left, round the corner and first on the right) nearly every day. It’s only a five minute walk from your apartment, and you’ve figured out a cunning strategy to make the most of their overpriced drinks. You sit in there for hours with your laptop, doing your homework or working on your latest novel. It’s a nice escape from your roommate and brother, Dave, although you’d never tell him that.

 

Part of the reason you come here so often, although you’d never admit it, is because of the girl who serves you. Her name tag reads “Kanaya” and she knows your orders by heart, complex rotary system and all, and the way she says “Rose” makes it sound special. You think she’s probably quite a bit older than you are. You’re in your first year of college – studying English – and you only just turned eighteen. Through snippets of conversation over the many times you’ve visited, you’ve found out that Kanaya studied something to do with fashion or design at the same college as you, started working here when she couldn’t find a job in the fashion industry, and has now been here for several years. Several subtle questions and careful deductions later, you worked out that she’s now twenty-four. Sitting at your table in the corner – the only one you ever sit at – you pretend to be working and watch her serving drinks out of the corner of your eye, and manage to convince yourself that six years really isn’t that much at all.

 

You won’t admit it, even to yourself, but you carefully time your visits to coincide with her working hours, and the times when Starbucks is emptiest. Just as she knows your orders, you’ve memorised her schedule, and you know when she’ll be working the night shift and it’ll be just you and her and your laptop. Sometimes, you even start a conversation. Casual chatter, always carefully disguising the way you’re using it to find out everything you can about her.

 

It’s midnight, and you have an essay due tomorrow. You’ve only written about half of it, and you’re sitting in Starbucks, staring at your laptop screen and alternating between typing furiously and sipping your coffee. In the far corner, a young man is staring into his latte as if he’s contemplating drowning himself in it, and behind the counter, Kanaya is wiping the sides. The shop is almost eerily silent, the lights turned down low, and despite your looming deadline, you can’t help but think how much you like it like this.

“It’s nice at night, isn’t it?” you say, glancing up from your screen to look over at Kanaya.

“Sorry?” she asks, putting the cloth down and walking along to the near end of the counter.

“I said it’s nice here at night.”

“I think so, too,” she says, smiling, “What’s that you’re writing?”

“Essay,” you say, pulling a face, “On the theme of revenge in _The Tempest_.”

“It’s due tomorrow?”

You nod, sighing. She just smiles understandingly and goes back to wiping the intricate machines behind the counter. You add another notch to your mental tally of conversations with Kanaya, and give this one six out of ten. Next time, you think you’ll try to talk a little longer.

 

Two days later, she has another night shift and, although you have no pressing homework to do, you’re sitting at your customary table with your laptop again. This time, you’re working on your novel, although you spend more time watching Kanaya. The shop is completely empty, with only the two of you in there.

“Another essay?” she asks, leaning on the counter and resting her chin in her hands.

“No,” you say, shaking your head and writing another sentence, then deleting the entire paragraph and sighing.

“What is it, then?”

“Just... Nothing.”

She laughs, and you smile. You’ve never heard her laugh before. She always seemed a little too serious for laughter.

“Come on, tell me.”

You just shake your head, and contemplate adding another word to your latest sentence. You wonder why writing has to be so hard. You’re too busy concentrating on your writing to notice Kanaya coming up behind you.

“Complacency of the learned,” she says, reading the document title, “What is it?”

“A story. A novel, I guess,” you say, quickly minimising the window.

“Can I read it?”

“It’s not finished yet,” you say, shaking your head.

“Can I read some of it?”

You try to think of a way to say you don’t want anyone to read it without sounding rude.

“Maybe another time,” you say, closing your laptop.

“All right.”

She goes back behind the counter, and you open your laptop again. You stay in there for another half an hour, writing and watching Kanaya. Sometimes, you think you catch her looking at you.

 

Her next night shift isn’t for another week. You go in during the days, but don’t say anything. You’re waiting for the night – your night. You’ve prepared a sample of your novel, what you think of as the best of it, and printed it out. You even put it in a plastic wallet. When the night finally comes, you wait until the only other patron has left before you take it out.

“What’s that?” she asks, as you bring it up to the counter.

“A bit of my novel,” you say, nervously putting it down, “I thought you... I mean, you said you wanted to read it, so... here.”

She smiles at you as she takes it, then sits down on one of the stools at the counter and starts reading it. You stand there awkwardly wondering what to do. You decide to go and sit down until she finishes, pretending to write, but too nervous to do anything but watch her read.

“This is good,” she says, putting down the last page and smiling.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

You can’t stop yourself from grinning.

 

Next time you see her, you decide you’ll ask her if she wants to go somewhere with you. Not for coffee, and definitely not on a date, of course. Just a chance to get to know each other. Talk outside of Starbucks.

“Hey, Kanaya,” you say, leaning over the counter to talk to her whilst she prepares your coffee, “Do you want to hang out with me some time? Outside of Starbucks? And preferably not anywhere coffee-related?”

“That sounds good,” she says, smiling, “What sort of place do you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure,” you say, realising you should have probably thought of that sooner, “We’ll find somewhere.”

“My shift ends at one,” she says, handing you your drink with an especially sincere smile.

“I know. I’ll be here at ten past.”

You go over to your table and pull out a book. It’s already twelve, so you think you’ll just sit here and read until Kanaya gets off. At least that way, you won’t be late for your first definitely-not-a-date. You haven’t been sitting there for more than five minutes when you get a text. You sigh when you see it’s from Dave.

_hows your date going_

Rolling your eyes, you type out a quick reply.

_I’m not on a date._

You don’t even have time to put your phone away before another text arrives.

_its definitely a date youre wearing that nice dress you like and you spent half an hour on your hair what else would you be doing_

Trying to resist replying, you take another sip of coffee and put your phone face-down on the table. You can’t do it.

_I’m drinking coffee. Alone._

You think it’s probably impossible to text as quickly as he does.

_not the greatest of dates then_

Sighing, you send one last reply.

_Fine by me, because it’s not a date. Goodbye._

This time, he doesn’t text you back. You’re not sure whether you’re more relieved or disappointed. You wonder whether you’ll tell him about Kanaya. You think he’d probably guess anyway.

 

Ten past one finally arrives, and Kanaya appears next to your table, already changed out of her uniform. You smile up at her and put your book away, then stand up.

“Shall we go, then?” she asks, and you nod, trying not to grin too widely.

You walk outside in silence, trying desperately to think of something to talk about.

“So,” you say, after thirty awkward seconds of silence, “What do you do when you’re not slaving away in Starbucks?”

“Look for jobs, mostly.”

You laugh.

“Such a loyal employee,” you joke, nudging her with your elbow.

“Working at Starbucks isn’t exactly my dream job,” she says, smiling.

“You want to work in fashion, right?”

“Yes,” she says, looking pleased you remembered.

You nod understandingly, trying to pretend you know more about the fashion industry than you actually do, which isn’t a lot.

“What do you want to do?” she asks, “When you finish college?”

“Well, of course, my dream is to work at Starbucks.”

She takes a moment to laugh. You smile slightly at the split-second it took her to understand the joke.

“What do you really want to do?”

“I’d like to be an author,” you say, half-shrugging as if to say this is only a casual desire, and not your dearest ambition.

“I think you’d be good. You write well.”

A smile appears on your face, uninvited, at this genuinely sincere praise. You feel like you’re walking on top of the clouds. You have no idea what to say, so you just smile at her, trying to convey all of your gratitude in that one expression. She looks like she understands. You walk in silence for a bit, just smiling to yourself.

“Where are we going?” she asks eventually, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m fine with anywhere.”

You pause for a moment, trying to think of somewhere to go that isn’t Starbucks. It’s surprisingly hard.

“Maybe we should just walk around a bit,” you suggest, “We could go to the park.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”  
She smiles at you, and you smile back. A moment of bravery compels you to take her hand, and she slips her fingers between yours as you do. You start walking towards the park in companionable silence. Neither of you really feels like saying anything.

 

When you reach the park, you find an empty bench near the pond and sit down next to each other.

“This is nice,” you say, shifting slightly closer to her, then leaning against her shoulder.

“It is,” she says, resting her cheek against the top of your head, “We should do it again some time.”

You hesitate for a moment before replying.

“Just to clarify,” you say, “This is a date, isn’t it?”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so, too,” you say, smiling.

You sit there in companionable silence for a bit longer, until your phone vibrates. You pull it out and roll your eyes when you see it’s a text from Dave.

_you still not on a date?_

“Who is it?” Kanaya asks, peering over your shoulder.

“My brother,” you say, sighing as your phone vibrates again.

_only i can see you in the park right now cuddling with that starbucks chick_

“Oh, come _on_ ,” you say, glancing around and spotting Dave lurking behind a bush on the other side of the pond, “Right. I have to deal with this. Sorry.”

You stand up and start walking around the pond, glaring daggers at Dave.

“Why is your brother following you?” Kanaya asks, jogging to catch up with you.

“Because he’s an annoying little sod,” you say, breaking into a run as Dave spots you and tries to make his escape.

Dave manages to trip over a root and nearly lose his stupid ironic sunglasses, and you catch up with him.

“Would you mind not stalking me?” you ask, holding your hand out to help him up.

He gives your hand a suspicious look before taking it.

“Why would I do that? It’s so much fun.”

“Sitting in a bush watching your sister sit on a bench doesn’t look particularly fun,” Kanaya observes, walking up behind you.

“And you must be Kanaya,” Dave says, grinning, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“No, you haven’t,” you say.

“All right, but I will.”

You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Go home, Dave,” you say, turning to leave.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, then stepping closer to you.

“Can you trust her?” he whispers into your ear, low enough that Kanaya can’t hear him.

“What do you mean?” you whisper back.

“I mean... Well, first off, how old is she? Are we talking paedophilia here?”

“Dave!” you say, hitting him.

“No, really.”

“She’s twenty-four. And perfectly safe, okay?”

Dave pauses for a moment before replying.

“Fine. I’ll trust your judgement, then. Just... call me if anything goes wrong, okay?”

“I will,” you say, rolling your eyes.

He releases you, and you walk off with Kanaya. Glancing back, you see him watching you go, and you think he might look slightly worried.

“What was that about?” Kanaya asks.

“He’s just worried about me,” you say, then roll your eyes and add: “Brothers.”

“Oh, right.”

You walk in silence for a bit. Part of you is wondering whether Dave has a point.

“So,” Kanaya says, interrupting your thoughts, “Where to now?”

You try to think of a suitably date-like activity.

“The cinema?” you suggest, “Are there any films you want to watch?”

“There is one...”

 

Kanaya takes you to a small, cheap, shabby cinema you’ve never seen before to see a film you’ve never heard of. It’s something obscure with a plot line you can’t quite follow and a very low budget, but you enjoy it anyway.

“Hey, who’s that guy?” you whisper, ignoring the disapproving glares from the various arty types around you.

“I think he’s the one who killed the nun,” Kanaya whispers back.

“I thought that was the one with the moustache?”

“Maybe it was. I think we’re supposed to think it was him.”

You don’t really pay attention to most of the film, but it turns out it was the guy with the moustache who killed the nun. You’re not really sure how this relates to the overall plot, though, if indeed a plot exists. Mostly, you spend the film making snarky comments about it with Kanaya.

 

After it’s over, you and Kanaya walk out of the cinema hand in hand.

“It’s getting late,” you say, looking up at the darkening sky, “We should probably think about getting something to eat.”

“Oh, I know a place,” she says, and she does.

She takes you to a small, friendly restaurant which serves cheap, simple food, and treats you to the best burger you’ve had in a long time. She has pizza, and you both agree it is especially mediocre pizza. She tries some of your burger, and says she wishes she had ordered it. You offer to share yours with her, but she says she’s fine with the pizza. For the most part, you eat in companionable silence.

 

After dinner, she offers to walk you home, and you accept. You walk along in silence, holding hands, and when she says goodbye on your doorstep, she gives you a quick kiss on the cheek that leaves you smiling.

“Good date?” Dave asks, as you close the door behind you.

“The best,” you reply, and you don’t stop smiling all evening.

 

If anything, you start going to Starbucks more often. If you had to guess, you’d say that about half of your earnings were spent in there. You’d say it’s more than worth it to see Kanaya. Most days, you hang around, reading or doing your homework or writing, until her shift ends, then spend an hour or so walking around with Kanaya. Sometimes you go somewhere or do something, maybe watch a movie, but usually you just walk and talk. After a month, you think you’ve probably walked pretty much everywhere, twice. Dave thinks the amount of walking you do is ridiculous. He thinks you’ve walked more in a month than any sane person would in their entire life. You think he needs to get out more.

 

Exactly one month after that first date, you go back to that duck pond, and sit on the same bench again. This time, Dave isn’t hiding in the bushes. You think that, by now, he trusts Kanaya not to brutally murder you. You hope so, anyway.

“It feels strange,” you say, watching the ducks, “A whole month.”

“It seems longer,” Kanaya agrees, gently stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.

“Like eternity, and like no time at all.”

She nods, and you turn to look at her. For the first time in a while, you think about how much older than you she is.

“Do you think it’ll last?” you ask.

“I hope so,” she says, and you smile.

“I hope so, too.”

She kisses you, and you think that even if it doesn’t last forever, just for now feels like enough of an eternity for you.


End file.
